Contrary to Popular Belief
by TofuTaffeta
Summary: Contrary to popular belief, Loki Laufeyson is not dead. But, in complete concurrence with popular belief, he is no longer living either. But this existential limbo can only last for so long once Primatech catches wind of it ...
1. Out of the Shadows

**Guess what? I'm redoing this story. I seem to be doing that a lot.**

**And on a new account, too!**

**Anyways: I have some new things in mind for how I want it to go after seeing Iron Man 3 and Thor 2. I hope you like what I've done with it!**

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing except that which I do. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter I**

_**Out of the Shadows**_

Earth, that seemingly foolish and unimportant realm, had caught the eye of Loki Laufeyson, God of Mischief and Lies. He no longer wished to rule it. Instead, he longed to study it. Or, more specifically, the mortals that inhabited it.

Their lives were so short. A flash and a bang, and then all that remained was smoke. And then that smoke dissipated, and no one was around to remember it was even there at all.

But they loved with a fiery passion, and gave themselves wholly to whatever it was that they believed in – God, life, love, sex, money, drugs, family. Whatever it was, they gave everything to have it, to personify it. They loved when there was no hope. In fact, their love gave them hope.

Loki's fascinations had led him to Earth after he faked his death on Svartalfheim. He had not wished to remain a prisoner in Asgard, as it held far too many memories for him to properly endure without another breakdown. Asgard was not Asgard without his mother, and he would not be forced to return and live out the rest of his sentence there no matter what he had to do to avoid it. Besides, his death, like the death of Agent Coulson, pushed Thor to do whatever was necessary to end the danger's reign over the worlds. Thor had survived Convergence, and so had the Nine Realms. For this, Loki was both grateful and proud.

So Loki hid in the shadows of a world that feared and loathed his true face, disguising himself as anything to pass the time. He observed the breaking of hearts and mending of souls these beings were capable of, and he came to admire them.

It was off for Loki, who had felt so betrayed for so long, and had then been the Betrayer, to admire so deeply, especially when the object of his admiration was not one person, but an entire group that he had once sought to subjugate. The prospect of the extinction of the human race no longer spurred him on, but brought him sadness. This was another thing Loki had not experienced for a long time – since his mother's demise thirteen moons ago, actually. To be sad, you must first be attached, and Loki had only ever really been attached to Frigga.

And then that day came, and someone sought Loki out in the shadows.

* * *

It was 8:03am sharp and Loki was comfortably seated on a park bench in Odessa, Texas. It had been a few months since he had revisited America, having been spending a fair bit of time in Africa and parts of Asia, and he found himself reminded of why he had stayed away. The Americans were amusing and fiercely opinionated, more so than in any other country, and he enjoyed observing them. They were, however, not quite as likely to respect the privacy of a middle-aged looking businessman sitting on a bench and having a nice, peaceful time before a full day of work, and so he was constantly being interrupted.

It was midsummer, and the grass was already mostly dead from the heat. Loki was quite comfortable in his work-related (though he had no occupation other than existing at that moment) as the weather didn't do a thing to him, positive or negative.

He was people watching, or _observing_, as he preferred to refer to it as. It was a favourite pastime of his – or, even, his only real pastime.

Most of the sweat-slicked morning joggers had returned to their homes to shower and prepare for their busy days by now, and aside from the odd cat or pensioner (or both), the pedestrian traffic was nonexistent.

This was why Loki found it a little odd when a young woman that appeared to be in her early twenties rounded the corner. She was jogging at such a slow pace it was really more of an enthusiastic stroll, and her blonde pig-tail whipped around her head, not from her speed – or lack thereof – but from the way she tossed her head this way and that to take in her surroundings with wide, hazel eyes.

As she neared Loki, she slowed down even more, and it soon became apparent that she planned to stop altogether and rest on the bench beside him. She plopped herself onto the seat and took a swig of water from the bottle in her hand. The swig was followed by several gulps, and Loki took advantage of her distraction to glance sideways and take stock of her appearance.

As mentioned earlier, she appeared to be in her early twenties, but upon closer inspection her eyes seemed deeper and darker than that of a youthful person from this realm. However, the glow to her skin and the lack of a ring on any of her important fingers suggested otherwise. She was in short gym pants that barely reached mid-thigh, but they seemed almost modest compared to what he had seen other women twice her age clad in. Her top was small and slim-fitting, as though it had been made to fit her. She was not quite as _gifted_ as other women Loki had met on his travels, but her figure was slender and pleasing all the same. From the look of her, she took good care of herself, and there was a small but definite amount of muscle on her frame. All the same, she was a delicate mortal, and the moment she stopped drinking and began to rub at the back of her neck reminded him of this and he flicked his gaze away from her.

The young woman, however, seemed to have plans that did not involve ignoring Loki at all.

She turned to him and smiled warmly. "Loki?" she said tentatively, and Loki's eyes immediately whipped back at her, and this time he turned his body also. His snake eyes narrowed dangerously, but she just smiled at him and continued to speak. "Hi, I'm Claire. Claire Bennet."

Loki maintained his stare in silence, unable to form words.

She held up her hands, one with the palm facing out and the other holding the bottle loosely in its grip. She seemed to be attempting to communicate peaceful intentions, but Loki was not interested in her body language.

"I'm not from S.H.I.E.L.D.," she said sincerely. "I just want to help you out a little."

Loki did not move. "How do you know my name?"

Claire smiled softly. "Everyone knows your name. You're quite famous – well, _infamous_. Though I suppose that's how you planned it anyway."

Loki continued to stare at her. "What are you?"

Claire chuckled. "I'm a woman. Do they not have those where you're from?"

Loki soon forgot all about his recent discoveries regarding humans, and hissed angrily at her, "Do not jest with me, child. I could snap your neck with a click of my fingers."

Funnily enough, Claire did not seem afraid. Quite the contrary, actually.

"I am just trying to lighten the mood," she told him. "I know who you are because I know people, and those people know everything." She paused, as though to give Loki a chance to say something, but when he didn't she decided to continue. "I understand that I have given you no reason to trust me, but I give you my word that I will never lie to you. Not ever."

Loki was seething. "Your word means nothing to me. If you did lie to me, I would know it regardless."

Claire nodded seriously, as though this was a regular, everyday conversation and Loki was making complete and total sense to her. "I suppose you would," she mused. Her hands came to rest in her lap, and she clutched her bottle tightly between her thighs.

"What do you want from me?"

Claire looked him over for a moment. "I only want to give you a purpose again. I know that you're lost, and I've come to find you."

Loki, forgetting all about the new leaf that he had metaphorically turned, sneered at Claire. "You're practically a child. What could you possibly do to help me?"

Instead of retaliating, Claire calmly replied, "I know what it is to be lost, and I know what it is to be found. I know what it is to be lied to, and I now know what it is to discover the truth. I know what good is, and I know what evil is. I am not either, nor will I ever claim to be, but I don't believe that you are either good or evil. I know the grey area between the two intimately, and in ways that I sincerely wish I didn't. I am 23 years of age this August, and I will not deny my youthfulness and naiveté. However, I am not alone. I came here today as a representative of an organisation that wants to see you safe and well."

Loki knew he should leave and never look back, but there was something in her eyes that stunned him. It wasn't pity, nor was it sympathy, but rather understanding, with just a hint of unconditional acceptance.

"Why did they – the organisation you claim to be a part of – send a child to do their work?"

"Because I am just as good as any of them at what I do, even though I've had to work twice as hard to prove it." Claire hesitated for a moment and considered him with her head cantered to the side a little. "And because when I was 9 months old, my mother left me to die in a burning building. I survived, no thanks to her, and was then taken by a man I then believed to be my father for the next 14 years."

Loki did not scoff aloud, but his contempt at her attempts to associate herself with him did not exactly please him.

"I know that it can't compare to finding out that you are from an entirely different race," she continued, "and that you were lied to constantly for millennia, but … maybe you can understand where I'm coming from. All I see is someone that was hurt and, in the midst of that hurt, made mistakes. I made mistakes, too. I understand."

Loki laughed a very chilled laugh. "No matter what you have fooled yourself into believing, Miss Bennet, you do not understand me, nor will you ever. Good day."

He stood and left.

* * *

Loki had never actually been to New Mexico _in the flesh_ before, but he felt rather nostalgic about his visit to Puerto Antiguo all the same. The town looked the same as it had when he had inhabited the Destroyer; all retro shops and kit cars and nicely styled hair on both the men and the women. The roads had all been rebuilt, as had the buildings, and it seemed as though there never had been an otherworldly disturbance there.

Of course, Loki knew better. He had instigated the drama, after all.

Loki was walking along the street with a bagel in his hand, having just tried the delicacy that was considered to be local. He knew that they existed all over, but it seemed that this small town had a particular fascination with them.

Just as Loki spotted a library that he instantly decided to check out, he ran into something that was definitely not stationary and let out a very undignified groan at the contact.

Loki looked down and just managed to catch the old man before he fell, but the paper bags of groceries he was carrying fell on the ground and spilled out their contents on the pavement.

"Oh, I am so very sorry," the man said immediately, and he looked up at Loki with eyes that were not quite fixed upon his face. Still clutched in his hand was a cane, and Loki then came to the realisation that the man was blind.

"No," Loki said quickly, and with a small smile, "I am sorry. Here, let me help you." He got down on his knees and slowly began to pick up the contents of the bag and place them back inside, but the man protested.

"No, no, I'll get it!"

Loki shook his head and vocalised his disagreement. "No, it's fine. Really, it is." He attempted to convey as much warmth in his tone as possible, as the man was not able to see his charming smiles. He continued to pick it all up until the bags were full once more, and he then did his best to place the bags back into the man's arms safely. When it turned out that with a cane in one hand this was not an easy thing to arrange, Loki asked, "Where are you headed?"

The man raised his head to stare into Loki's general direction. "My apartment is a few blocks away. It's close; I'll be fine to get there."

"Well then," Loki began, "if it is nearby, I am afraid I must insist upon assisting." He took the bags into his own arms. "Do you know which way?"

The man tilted his head back a little and raised his nose to the sky, whereupon he sniffed derisively for a moment before exclaiming, "Ah! To the left."

Loki studied him closely – frumpy clothes, wrinkled brow, and all. "How can you tell?"

The man gave a gap-toothed grin and tapped his nose with the index finger of his now free left hand. "I can smell the hot-dog stand outside from a mile away. There are six of them in this town, believe it or not, but the one near my place uses a special kind of mustard. It's homemade, I believe. Very authentic." He nodded wisely, and began to hobble off in the general direction of what he smelt.

Loki attuned his senses to search out what the man was talking about, and soon found it. He walked just behind the man, and it turned out that the cane was not actually because of his lack of sight, but because of a very bad limp in his leg. As though he could feel Loki staring at it, the man said, "Vietnam."

Though Loki had no clue what this meant, he made a noise of confirmation from somewhere in the back of his throat and carried on.

They reached his apartment building eventually, and Loki was appalled at the state of it. The walls were falling apart at places and the gutter was so full of trash that he had to take at least a one-metre step over it, perhaps more. The man didn't seem to know it was there at all, and he trudged right through it and hobbled up on to the side-walk.

"Tom!" someone yelled, and the old man looked up towards the sky. Just as Loki was about to comment on the unlikelihood of the voice being an actual deity, 'Tom' called back up in reply, "Yeah, yeah, Bill, I'm coming up. Ran into a bit of trouble, but this guy helped me out."

Loki looked up and saw a head peeking out of one of the top windows like a finger out of a hole in a glove. His hair was a mess, but no more so than Tom's.

"Ahh, good man!" Bill exclaimed. "We don't find too many of them around these parts anymore, do we Tom?"

"Not even once a year," Tom remarked remorsefully.

"Too true, too true," came the reply. Loki was getting a little tired of all the yelling, as were some of the other passers-by. Bill, however, didn't seem to have any difficulty seeing, as he noticed the ill-boding reactions of those below and called out even louder than before, "I'll come down and help you bring the bags up, then? Save the young man the trip up the stairs and into our hole!" He then disappeared from the window, and took a full ten minutes to arrive downstairs. Tom spent the entire time laughing and explaining to Loki why the apartment really was a hole.

"The shower don't work for most of the time, and when it does it's lukewarm at best…"

Loki struggled to grasp how an Apostle became a temperature.

"…and then there ain't even a dishwasher, so we do it all by hand – Oh, Bill!"

Loki looked up and saw the old man walking out of the bottom door to greet them, a big smile on his face. He opened his arms wide as he approached Loki, which made the god very concerned that he wanted a hug, but he went for the bags instead. Loki breathed an internal sigh of relief.

"Well then, I'll be off," Loki said. He was trying his best not to ask the questions that kept filling his mind – _Why is the blind one doing the groceries? Why do they live on the top floor if they can both barely walk ten metres as it is? Why do _–

"Well, good bye then," Tom said as Bill began to walk inside. "Thanks for your help, mister."

He left and closed the door behind him, and Loki was left standing in the street for some time before he managed to shake his head and turn away.

When he did, he was face-to-face with a pair of eyes that he knew instantly.

"That was really nice of you, Loki," Claire said. "I'm sure you made his day. And Bill's, too. Though I must admit, I was sure Bill was going to hug you at one point."

Loki gritted his teeth together. "So was I," he said. It was lame thing to say, and he immediately set about scolding himself for it. "What are you doing here?"

"I just came to see how you are doing," Claire replied.

"Well, I am fine, as you can see," Loki grouched before he turned away and began to stalk off.

Surprisingly, Claire did not follow him.

* * *

The third time Claire found Loki was just over three months later. Loki was in England, spending some time in high society while garbed in the guise of a bachelor from Ireland. He'd spend some time in Dublin, and had the accent down reasonably well. They all seemed to believe him anyways, but that may have just been because he was almost always drunk.

Loki had managed to charm himself into receiving an invitation to a large celebratory ball, and had magicked himself some fine clothes befitting someone of the stature he pretended to hold. A suit, just like all the other men, but rather than thin black ties Loki wore an emerald green tie that sparkled whenever in the vicinity of a bright light. It matched his eyes perfectly, and the women loved it.

Loki was in the middle of a conversation with a rather dull young woman who was chattering about her own mundane life. Loki found that he much preferred to spend his time among those who were not naturally entitled, though the irony of this discovery was not lost on him.

"And then I found them," the girl was saying as he turned back in, "the shoes I was looking for. There was only one pair left, and when I tried them on they were far too big for my ankles. I've often been told that my ankles are too slender to hold my weight, but I think they're just the right size. Anyway, the shoes, unlike my ankles, were not the correct fit. So I demanded for the woman to order in a new pair in just my size before the sun set, because I was attending a dinner with my father's business associates and I had to look my best. Daddy was paying for it all, and I had to make the most of his generosity while it lasted. I'm usually left to my own devices, and it's not nearly as satisfying. Anyway, I told her that if she didn't have them in before the day was done that I would sue her and her little chain of stores for all they were worth. She seemed to grasp that I was not joking, and so she drove all the way to the other store across town and fetched my size from there."

Loki gave her a charming smile. "And then all was well, I presume?"

The girl shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I left about ten minutes after she did, not being bothered to wait around for them, and then completely forgot all about it until a few days later when I saw someone else wearing the exact same shoes. But she had big ankles anyway – they would have looked much better on me."

Loki laughed, as he was greatly amused. Just not in the way this girl seemed to think he was. "How frightful for her. I wonder what she thought when she returned and found you not there?"

The girl smiled wickedly. "I suppose it will teach her to stock all the necessary sizes for all of her shoes in future. It was a dreadful oversight."

Loki nodded vigorously. "Yes, most definitely. How very middle class of her."

She giggled. "I do so like the way you speak. What part of Ireland are you from?"

"Dublin."

"Ahh … And what did you say was your name again?" she asked. She also blinked rapidly, which Loki supposed was to bring attention to the black around her eyes that was obviously irritating them while it attempted to bring out the colour in her otherwise boringly brown eyes.

"Loki."

"Lockie? Oh, that's a nice name. Very Irish," she flirted.

Loki smiled thinly. "Yes, I suppose it is."

"And your last name?" she queried, taking a delicate sip from her champagne flute.

"Lawson," Loki said simply. "And what is your name, my fair lady?"

"Marina," she replied. "It means deep, blue sea."

Loki raised his eyebrows and nodded in feigned interest. "What a lovely name for a lovely lady."

"Why thank you, good sir," she said. The strains of music changed and become something slower and softer, and she looked up into the air wistfully. "Oh, I do love this song so very much. It's perfectly elegant, don't you think?"

Loki could take a hint, as much as he usually preferred not to. "Yes, it certainly is. Would you like to dance?" He extended his arm and bowed at the waist courteously.

Marina emitted a sharp giggle. "Of course," she agreed eagerly, and he took her arm and led her into the middle of the dance floor. "You are such a gentleman. If any of my past boyfriends were anything like you I would have been married long ago!"

Loki laughed, but otherwise ignored the comment as he placed a hand on her waist and began to sway.

They danced for a while before Marina began to grow tired, at which point she decided to rest her head on Loki's chest, his shoulder being far too high for her to reach. She then became dead weight that Loki had to drag around while still trying to retain some semblance of elegance, but whenever he suggested it, she would not stop dancing.

"Oh, but I am having such fun!" she would exclaim each time, and he would smile and pretend to be relieved.

This continued to go on for the better part of an hour before Loki saw a flash of all-too-familiar blonde locks flitting about in the crowd. Whoever belonged to them was headed out, and Loki excused himself before starting out after her. Marina was most displeased at his hasty departure, and handed him a note straight from her brassière that had her number scrawled upon it in what she thought was 'elegant' handwriting. He promised to call before racing out.

Once he had exited the hall, Loki looked about him. He was in a parking lot filled with automobiles, the filthy things, and there was no one else in sight. He frowned deeply, and began to walk toward his own vehicle before a voice startled him out of his thoughts.

"Are you going to give up looking for me that easily? Just a quick glance, and then you're off? My, my, you gods are not persistent at all."

Loki whirled around to face her. "Miss Bennet," he greeted coolly.

"Mr Lawson," Claire replied in turn. She bit the side of cheek coyly, and her hazel eyes reflected off the lamplight with a definite sparkle.

Claire was certainly not garbed in gym shorts and a tank top on this occasion – she was elegantly groomed, her blonde hair was done up nicely, and her deep green dress (that was the exact same colour as his tie, oddly enough) reached just beneath her knees. She was in heeled shoes, just as Marina was, only she seemed capable of actually walking in hers. It was cold out, but she did not wear a jacket over the thin straps of her gown. There were no goose- bumps to be seen on her skin, and Loki immediately began to question whether or not she was actually human. There was something about her ...

"I suppose you have come to convince me once more?" Loki drawled, and Claire gave him a smile that almost warmed up the weather.

"No," she said. "I'm just … checking in. How are you feeling?"

"Violated."

Claire laughed. "Don't. I'm happy to leave the moment you ask me to, but unless I am mistaken – or deaf – you haven't asked me to do that yet. In fact, our conversation has been downright amicable."

Loki sighed and resisted the temptation to scratch at the facial hair he was trying out for the first time in a while. "How did you know where I was going to be?"

"I know people, and those people know everything, and the people who know everything told me because I know them and they know everything, and… Well, you get the gist, I s'pose." She gave him an infuriating smile. "Now, do you have any complaints to make about out fair planet? Should you stumble upon any issues, please do call us. I've left my card on the front bonnet of your car, though I know you'll have dumped it somewhere in a ditch by tomorrow. Can't have me knowing what you drive, can you? I might be with S.H.I.E.L.D. or some other company that wishes you ill, and then where would you be?"

"Right here," Loki replied. "I'd be right here. They don't know I'm alive, and I don't plan on revealing myself to them any time soon."

Claire smirked. "But if I was with them, they'd know, because I know."

"But they'd never take me."

Claire cocked her head to the side. "No, I don't suppose they would." She glanced up at the sky for a little while, and her eyes flickered from star to star. "I should probably be going soon," she said once her thoughts returned to Earth.

"LOCKIE!" someone yelled, and they both turned to see Marina stumbling down the stairs on heels that were taller than she was. "I'm so glad I caught you!"

As she reached the last step, she missed it and fell onto the pavement. Both Loki and Claire winced at the cracking sound of her knees hitting the sidewalk, and the ripping sound of the hem of her dress was impossible to miss in the silence of the night.

Loki's hands fisted at his sides as he looked between the two women, one on the ground sobbing and the other standing quite comfortably in the moonlight, her arms folded over his chest in the most feminine of ways. She did look sad, though, as she looked down at Marina. "Such a shame," she said. She held a hand out and helped the girl to her feet – it was not in her nature to be unkind. Once Marina was dusted off and huddling herself closely to Loki, however, Claire could not resist one final jab. "It's your ankles, you see … they're just too small and weak to hold up your body weight." Marina whimpered a little, and Claire smiled sympathetically before she looked up at Loki once more. "It was good seeing you, Loki."

She gave him a smile as bright as the stars above them and walked away.

* * *

Loki walked through the streets of Dubai, his backpack on his shoulder and his money stuffed tightly in his pocket. The street vendors were constantly offering him deep-fried foods of the fattening variety, but he said no each time. He was here to observe, not consume.

"Sir, sir! Are you sure you do not want some? Is very cheap, very good, yes?"

Loki shook his head and kept walking.

The clothing was colourful and slightly more reminiscent of home here, but the cars that pushed through the throngs of people dispelled any hopeful and imaginative theories Loki was able to come up with.

He eventually arrived at what was considered 'downtown,' and was very amused at the change in people from here to the central of the city. Dubai was not a lot like Westernised cities Loki had visited (and attempted to conquer). The gravel and dirt underfoot was constantly getting caught in his sandals, and he was regretting their purchase immensely. He was capable of gaining money doing odd jobs and charming people into thinking that he was more capable and knowledgeable than he actually was, but he was a sucker for buying whatever everyone else was wearing. He didn't know how they could stand it, honestly.

Just as Loki rounded the corner, he almost ran into something. Or someone, more correctly. It was a boy just out of adolescence, and he appeared very scruffy from the patchy beard on his face to the grease in his hair. His deep brown eyes were angry, and Loki held his hands up in a sign of peace and submission.

"I am sorry," he said quickly, but the boy didn't seem to understand what he had said. Damn Midgard and its language barriers!

The boy began to babble angrily in a language unknown to Loki, but his tone and the fire in his eyes were unmistakable. He began to shove Loki roughly, and by the time Loki began to back away, more boys had joined the first. They began to shove Loki around, and Loki retaliated by shoving right back. The backpack was torn from his back, the strap broken, and the contents spilled out onto the dirt.

"Stop it!" Loki hissed angrily. He felt his magic flare up inside him like a coiled snake, and he desperately wanted to attack them for their insolence. But, before he could do so, someone else stepped in.

"I believe he said stop," a familiar, musical voice said, and they all turned to see Claire standing a few metres away. She was leaning against the wall with her arms folded over her chest, and her clothes were clean but old-looking. Her feet were bare, but she seemed quite fine with the stones underfoot.

The boys began to yell angrily, and one even rushed at Claire. She didn't move as he approached her, but she shook her head and said something that Loki didn't understand. The boy, however, did seem to know what she was saying, and he immediately froze. He sputtered unintelligently, and Claire gave him a smile that did not reach her eyes as all the ones she gave Loki did. She pushed herself off of the wall and was then in front of the boy. Her arms untangled themselves from each other and came to rest at her hips, and she looked down at the boy with a pout.

The boy, for his part, was not backing down. Everything else around them seemed to have frozen the moment Claire came onto the scene, and Loki could not help but be fascinated. Did these youths know Claire? Was she well known to everyone?

The child muttered something angrily and spat in Claire's face, but his spit hit nothing but air and then the ground behind where Claire had once been. He had but a moment to look confused before his legs were swept out from under him and he was on his ass in the mud. He moved to get up, but a slender foot was on his chest, the toes dangling dangerously close to his neck. Claire did not speak, but the threat was clear. The boy whimpered, and she let him get up.

Claire looked over at the other boys with a chilling stare, and they all turned and began to walk away.

Once they were gone, Claire moved and began to pick up Loki's things. Loki was still standing there, struck dumb by what had occurred. As he had been known as Silvertongue in his previous life, it was a little shameful to be unable to find anything to say.

"How did you…?" Loki sighed. "Never mind."

Claire chuckled lightly. "You're learning, I see." She handed him his things, and even went so far as to grip his forearm in greeting. "How are you?"

"Fine," Loki replied tersely. He slid his backpack back into its place and set about checking the straps, more out of having something to do with his hands than anything else. "Yourself?"

"I am fabulous, thank you," Claire said beamingly. "A little hot, but not bothered by it. Where are you headed?"

Loki shrugged. "Wherever I feel like going, I suppose."

Claire smirked. "An answer only a man without purpose could possibly give honestly." She trailed her eyes over him, and Loki couldn't help but feel that he was being summed up. "Well, you're either really glad to see me, or you've gotten a cellphone."

Loki was confused for a moment before he managed to follow Claire's gaze to his pocket. "Oh – yes. I got it a few months back."

Claire laughed. "I know."

Loki scowled at her. "I do not take kindly to being watched. I have come to accept you as a persistent annoyance to my existence, but that does not give you permission to preside over me."

"I'm not presiding over anybody," Claire said, her hands held up with her palms facing out. "I'm just checking to make sure you're okay."

Loki rolled his eyes. "Because we are connected."

"I wouldn't go quite that far," Claire said, "but yes, I do believe we have some things in common that should almost guarantee a mutual understanding between us."

"An understanding of what sort, exactly?"

Claire shrugged non-committally. "I don't know, really. Couldn't you come up with this one?"

Loki frowned and peered down his nose at her. "What are you?"

Claire kept as straight a face as she possible could and said, "A woman. Do you not have those on Asgard?"

Loki couldn't help but smirk at her quip. "You are obviously not a human female."

"And why couldn't I be?"

"Even mortal women are not this annoying."

Claire laughed out loud at this. "I actually kind of agree with you." She calmed herself a little. "I'm not human, though. You're right. I'm sort of … advanced. The new human, but not quite. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me, either."

"Ah," Loki mused, "you are the product of a laboratory experiment, like that beast and the old young man."

Claire's eyebrows hit her hairline. "The Hulk and Captain America? I think not. I was born with a gene that allowed me to develop an ability when I reached a certain age. There were a few other things that all had to happen, the alignment of the Sun and the Moon, for example, but other than those variables I was born with this. As were most of my co-workers."

Loki looked very sceptical. "Why should I trust you?"

"You probably shouldn't. I'm just some weirdo that's stalking you. Trust isn't really something to bring into this right now. But should you be _interested_ in me and what I could offer you? Most definitely."

Understanding seemed to flicker somewhere behind his eyes. "Ah, so you are _that_ kind of … individual."

"A hooker?" Claire chuckled. "No. I'd sooner sell my kidneys on the black market than do that."

"Then what profession could you possibly hold that would lead you to be chasing me like this?"

"None. Well, technically my profession could lead me to you, but it didn't. Not this time, anyway. The people that I know – that I believe I have mentioned – discovered that you were on Earth, and have been monitoring you to make sure you don't try and kill anyone. We're not S.H.I.E.L.D., as I have previously informed you. We're a lot more underground than those fools. Anyway, I petitioned to be allowed to come and speak with you. This was a good year ago now. My request was passed, barely, and only because I have friends on the Board, and so here I am. This isn't part of my paid work, but I'm doing it anyway. It's off-record, or so to speak."

"Why would you wish to seek me out?" Loki asked.

Claire grinned. "Because we're _connected_." She sobered a little. "I want to do something worthwhile. Something important. When I was younger I was important in the grand scheme of things and everything was so … exciting, but now I'm no one to anyone. I guess I feel like that fall from grace is something you'd understand."

Loki scoffed a little. "You seem to be so very quick to draw parallels between my life and yours, when in fact we could be no more different. I am an immortal being of unending power, and you are just a child."

Claire looked a little hurt, but she covered it with a well-practised mask that Loki was able to see through immediately. "You are not the only immortal here, Loki. Forever is a long time to be alone."

Loki paused and looked Claire over. He had seen her several times now, and had mostly taken stock of her appearance and youth. But there was more to a person than that, he knew. "You say you are the 'next human.' What do you mean?"

"Come with me and I'll show you."

Loki laughed. "You think to trick a Trickster? You are a fool, Miss Bennet."

"I may be a fool," said Claire, "but I am not a liar. But I will also not give ultimatums. I feel that that is something your father would have done."

Loki was practically seething by now, and Claire could see it bubbling beneath the surface.

"I get that you don't want to talk about him, or Thor," Claire said soothingly, "but it's important for you to understand that I am every bit as damaged as you. I know what it's like to need to run, but I don't know what it's like to actually run. I have family there for me, and I am endlessly grateful for them, and I think that they're the kind of people you could be grateful for, too."

Loki didn't meet her gaze.

"Well, I'm gonna go now. But … just remember that you're only alone because you want to be. It doesn't have to be this way. Not anymore. There's a family for you, judgement-free, tax deductible – the whole package. You just have to come with me." She smiled sadly. "I know you won't now. You're stubborn; I get that. Believe me, I do. Just … remember: A prison becomes a home when you have the key."

And she left.

* * *

**What did you think? Read and review!**


	2. Into the Light

**Here's the next one for y'all! There are a couple of things I would like to address before I go on:**

**1. I am a person, and I have a life. This is not conducive to focusing on more than one project at once. As I am balancing school and family and friends and my own original piece of words, I would like to ask for some grace when it comes to updating. I will update once a week maximum, unfortunately, until such time as my world falls apart and I am thrust into such a pit of despair that I can do nothing but write.**

**2. I have never read a Marvel comic. Due to my pitiful internet and complete lack of income, I am not likely to read them any time soon. Bummer, I know. If I get something wrong, keep this in mind, but let me know anyway and I will see what I can do. Copy and paste an entire Wikipedia page and send it to me in a PM, if necessary. I apologise for that which I do not know, and I apologise even more profusely for that which I do.**

**3. I live in a very obscure area with awful internet but fantastic views. This is great for inspiration (small town people are HILARIOUS) but not-so-good for updating. Again, I am so sorry.**

**4. Sparrow Redhouse and Abigail Smithe are not characters that I have made up – OCs, as I am reliably informed they are labelled. They are from the online comics that I used to read, but not do not any longer for reasons you may discover should you see above. ^^^^**

**5. I think that's it.**

**6. OH - Sometimes when I'm writing I forget to eat, and reviews are sustenance. In order to avoid my untimely demise via starvation, _please_ review.**

**DISCLAIMER: I own that which thou doth not recognise. All else is the property of Those Who Are Not I. Do not sue. Fanks.**

* * *

**Chapter II**

_**Into the Light**_

Six months came and went, and Loki saw no sign of Claire Bennet. He was frustrated - less at her absence and more at himself for noticing it - and any flash of blonde hair turned his head.

In truth, Loki had forgotten what it was like to have someone that knew him. For all her delusions of grandeur, Claire knew who he was – _what_ he was – and didn't shy away from him. She never told him that he was anything, never tried to change him for her own gain. As far as he could tell, anyway. And he _was_ the God of Lies.

Loki told himself that he didn't miss her, not really, no way. But he was lying. She was honest and clever and even funny, and not many people were like that. Not to him. Not anymore.

So when Loki visited New York, for old times' sake, he was sure that he would see her. She was American, so surely it would be easier for her to come to New York than it was to come to Dubai or some other foreign place?

He was there for three whole days, and still she did not show up.

On the third night, Loki went to a bar. It was rowdy and smelly and the women were far too bold, but his distaste served as a passable distraction.

He had been there for just over an hour and was feeling suitably tipsy (the barmen were shocked at his ability to drink non-stop and still be upright) when a flash of blonde in his peripheral had him seeking her out with his eyes.

But it wasn't Claire.

Instead, his gaze found a tall, thin woman with long blonde hair and eyes that could only be described as Tesseract blue. But not the mind-controlled blue. They were cold but full of life regardless. She was standing by the edge of the room sipping a drink with an umbrella bobbing about in it, and she was staring right back at him. She gave him a knowing look and motioned toward the exit with her head. She placed the glass on a table as she passed and left.

Loki pondered the next course of action. He knew that he should stay right where he was, but there was something about the way she had looked at him that made him think she knew him. Like, the way _Claire_ knew him.

So he downed his drink, slammed it on the bar and followed her out.

There was no sign of her when Loki emerged from the bar. The street was surprisingly quiet for New York at this time of night, and the surrounding street lamps buzzed with an eerie glow, attracting any insects that dared brave the city's smoke-stained air.

"Hello?" he called, to which there was no response.

Loki had just about convinced himself that he was imagining the whole thing when a motorcycle rounded the corner and pulled up at the curb. There was a woman on it, clearly: the leather jacket was tight-fitting and there was a blonde mass of hair trailing from the back of the helmet. She flipped the visor on her helmet up and looked at him expectantly. It was definitely the woman from the bar – the eyes confirmed it.

"Get on," she said.

Loki was instantly suspicious, and felt a little stupid for having followed her out anyway.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Loki raised an eyebrow at her. "Oh, I know you won't."

The woman sighed exasperatedly. "Claire's in trouble," she said. "Either get on or get lost."

Loki froze. "What kind of trouble?"

"The kind I'm not discussing on the street," was the reply, and she flipped the visor down once more.

Loki was once again stuck, considering his options. He had missed Claire; there was no use denying it now. But was he willing to get on this death-trap with some woman he barely knew to try and save her?

The answer was yes, of course. He was far too bored to refuse such a spectacularly risky offer of distraction.

Sliding onto the bike behind the woman, he said, "I don't even know your name."

"Tracy Strauss," she said curtly, her voice muffled by the helmet. "Now, hold on. I'm not scraping God-flesh off the pavement."

She gunned the motor and was off.

Loki was shocked at first, but he got used to it quickly. He decided that he quite liked this mode of transportation; the way it let him feel the wind in his hair and such. It was like a horse, but more predictable, and faster. Tracy handled it with ease, and Loki soon learned that it was easier to lean with her on corners than against.

The ride didn't take too long. They arrived at a sort of office building, with a big sign out front.

_Primatech Paper Company_

_For all your office needs_

She pulled into a side street that went underground, then under the building itself. It was an undercover parking garage, but she had to stop and pull a card from her pocket to get into a certain section of it. The machine on the side beeped, ejected her card and the pole in front of them lifted. Loki assumed it was some sort of membership-related system, but he wasn't sure just how elite paper companies could get.

They pulled up in front of an elevator. Tracy shut the motorcycle down and got off. She pulled the helmet from her head and placed it on the bike, shaking her hair out of the knot it had been in for the duration of the trip.

Loki dismounted. The sounds of his feet hitting the pavement echoed through the place, and there were no other vehicles there. It was all very eerie.

"If this were a B-grade horror film," he said, "this would be the part where you murder me."

Tracy smirked as she pressed the button on the elevator three ties in quick succession. "I think we both know that's not going to happen. If anything, it would be the other way around."

"Ah, but you brought me here. That gives you the upper hand."

Tracy chuckled as the doors opened with a _ding_. "Homefield, yeah?" She stepped in and motioned for him to do the same.

Loki didn't like elevators much. He wasn't claustrophobic, per se, but he preferred open spaces with room to breathe. His cell in Asgard had seen to that.

But he got in anyway, because Tracy was looking at him with smirking eyes and a smug smile, daring him to back away now. He stood beside her and saw that there were no buttons to indicate levels to go to on the panel. In fact, there was no panel. The inside of the elevator was all stainless steel, and once the door had closed you could no longer tell that they were doors. It was like being in a seamless, metal box, and it set his teeth on edge.

And then, instead of rising, the elevator went down. Loki could tell because of the vertigo swimming in his stomach, and the way the elevator came to an abrupt halt.

The doors opened, and the scene they walked in on was pandemonium.

It reminded Loki very much of S.H.I.E.L.D – busy people doing busy things at their busy jobs. The men wore suits and the women wore work-dresses of the same material, with stockings and heeled shoes that _clacked_ as they walked. They all looked like they had been there for a long time; the men's previously well-styled hair was a mess from running their hands through it, and the women's mascara had fallen to their lower eyelids, adding to the dark circles under their eyes.

"Welcome to Primatech," Tracy grumbled. She stepped out of the elevator and, to Loki's surprise, took him by the arm.

"This is the company Claire was trying to get me to work for," he said belatedly.

"Work _with_," corrected Tracy. "And: yes."

They walked through the busy place quickly; there didn't seem to be any time for anyone to dawdle. Loki saw that, much like at S.H.I.E.L.D, all the workers were solemn; not a single smile was in sight. A few looked up and nodded at Tracy, but there were no smiles or greetings. Filing through paper-work, tapping madly on keyboards, whispering conversations – not one person was idle.

Loki's sweeping stare was pulled away from them all as Tracy pulled him down a corridor quickly. She still had not let go of his arm, and he didn't like that he was being lead around. He really was starting to regret following her; she was bossy and had no concept of personal space. And her driving (well, riding) was reckless, if not enjoyable. She was far too comfortable for Loki to be his usual self around, as she had an air of dangerous sophistication that suggested a sharp mind and excellent breeding.

They came to a door and Tracy released him to open it without preamble. She entered, but stayed by the door until Loki had passed in so she could shut it firmly behind them.

In the room were three other people: two men, one with brown hair and eyes, the other with black hair, green eyes and thickly-framed glasses, and one young woman with honey skin, jet-black hair and eyes that could only be described as gold. Each of them was seated on an office chair at long, oak table. There were three spare seats across from them, and Tracy sat herself in the middle one, motioning for Loki to sit beside her.

"I'll stand, thank you," he said coolly, and Tracy stared him down for a moment before letting it go.

"This is West Rosen, Alex Woolsley and Sparrow Redhouse. Abigail Smithe should be joining us soon."

Loki looked them all over thoroughly: the one introduced as West was tall and muscled, and was staring right back at him with his brown eyes. His jaw was strong and his nose was thin but crooked, having obviously been broken several times. Alex was shorter and thinner than West, but he seemed to have a definite amount of muscle on his frame that almost looked out of place. He scratched his ear-lobes and pushed his glasses up his nose regularly – at least three times each since Loki had entered the room.

The last, Sparrow Redhouse, was obviously of some sort of Hispanic descent. She was comfortable in her own skin, even more so than West and Tracy, and her eyes reminded him of Heimdall's own. She smelled of wet earth, and was dressed in a black top, cargo pants and muddied boots. Loki wondered where they had gotten so dirty when they were in the middle of the city.

"How long is Abigail going to take?" Tracy asked.

Sparrow pulled a phone from one of the many pockets on her cargo pants, and as she shifted to sit more comfortably Loki caught a glimpse of a gun strapped to her hip. "I'll text her," she said, and then she was tapping away on her phone.

Just as she pressed send and slid the device back in her pocket the door opened, and in stumbled someone who could only have been Abigail. Where everyone else in the room were garbed in black, Abigail wore blue-jeans with grass stains on the knees and a red T-shirt that said _Ask Me About Meth_ on it in big, bold letters. Her bleached blonde hair was in two disheveled plaits, and there were several multi-coloured sections in it all weaved together to make it look like a rainbow. The make-up around her eyes was thick and dark, and Loki could see where her powder was caked on her face, making it orange.

"Hi!" she said breathlessly. "Sorry I'm late." She looked over at Loki and smiled. "Abigail Smithe," she said, sticking a hand out.

Loki took it, the gentleman in him preparing to kiss it, but instead she gripped his and shook it firmly.

"Charmed to meet you," said Loki, and she laughed.

"Yeah, sure." She turned to look at the others and sobered up a little. "I really am sorry I'm late." She plopped herself in a chair beside Tracy. "I thought I'd lost Dudley, but he was just at the Myers' place with Sofia." She tapped painted nails on the table in a mind-numbing rhythm. "What did I miss?"

"Claire's gotten into shit again," said West. It was obvious that this was not an unexpected occurrence, though Loki felt that there was likely something different about this incident to make Tracy fetch him.

All traces of mirth left Abigail and she sat up straight, her fingers stilling. "What kind of shit?"

"The same kind as always," answered Sparrow. "She went in, and didn't come out. And now we have to bring her out."

Tracy sucked in a breath. "Well, it's a bit different this time," she said regrettably. "She wasn't supposed to be there, firstly, and then she didn't read the case-files closely enough and didn't notice that they have a bit of an … _existentialist_ on board."

"Existentialist?" asked Alex, scratching his forehead. "As in … black holes, or … something else?"

"Something else," replied Tracy. "Something not good."

Abigail seemed to have caught onto Loki's simmering confusion. "Let's not talk about things not everyone understands, yeah?" she said, and there was a bit of bite to her voice that Loki could never had anticipated. He lent against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.

Abigail looked around at her companions and found none of them speaking. "Are you kidding me? We're asking for his help, but we're not gonna tell him anything?"

West scoffed. "Don't talk about things you don't understand."

"What, 'cause he's the God of Mischief?" she asked.

"And Lies," Loki added proudly.

She shot him an appreciative smirk. "That, too." She turned back to the rest of them. "Claire trusted him, and I trust her. She thought that we could help him, and that he could help us. We have to let him try."

West looked about to argue once more, but Tracy cut him off with a curt, "Shut up, West," and then turned to Loki. "We are an organisation that deals with mutants. Underground, of course. In this brave new world, someone has to be focused on the greater good and not the spotlight associated with it."

Loki knew that was a dig at the Avengers, but he couldn't quite bring himself to appreciate it.

"Almost everyone in this company has some sort of special ability," continued Abigail. "West flies, Alex breathes under water, Sparrow can control rock and sand and stuff, Tracy can manipulate water, and I …" She lifted a hand and made a glowing, purple ball around it, "… can create force-fields."

Loki digested the information in a matter of moments. "And Claire?"

Abigail paused, and it was Alex who said, "Claire's immortal."

"_You are not the only immortal here, Loki. Forever is a long time to be alone."_

Loki cursed himself. He had known that she was more than just an ordinary human, but he hadn't thought that. He hadn't once considered that Claire was like him in any way more than what she had expressly suggested (i.e familial turmoil).

Trying to bury his surprise in order to at least appear nonplussed, Loki said, "And what sort of 'existentialist' has she gotten herself into 'shit' with?" His voice was drawling, and the expletive made him feel distinctly Midgardian.

Tracy pursed her lips. "Ralph Nox: Twenty-seven, medium height, overweight, premature balding, watery blue eyes and a sweating condition. He discovered, three months ago, that he can click his fingers and make things disappear. Claire would be included in this, I presume. Immortality does little to ward off inexistence."

For the first time since she had entered the room, Abigail looked pale and uncomfortable. "Oh my God," she groaned. "Have you told Sandra? What about Noah and Lyle?"

Tracy stared Abigail down coolly. "No," she said, "to all of the above. Sandra would do something stupid, Lyle would have a break-down, and Noah … Noah would, most likely, do something stupid_er_ and get himself killed." She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear stiffly, and Loki could see her biting her tongue. "This is why we brought Loki in. As far as I am aware we don't know of anyone else that could help in this case. We need magic, and so we need Loki. Any questions?"

The taller man, West, looked just about ready to combust. "I don't get why we can't handle this on our own," he said resentfully. "We don't bring in contractors. He's not one of us, so he shouldn't be involved."

Sparrow turned her Heimdall-esque orbs on West, but Abigail beat her to speak.

"How _dare_ you question Tracy's decisions! She's our leader, and we will do as she says and suggests and hints until such time as the world ends!" Abigail's eyes bulged dangerously and her faded lipstick was mixed with spit at the corners of her mouth. "Do you want Claire dead? I get that you have issues and all, but really, West? She's the baby. We have to take care of her."

Loki was feeling decidedly bristly about the fact that he was not getting a say in any of it, but he supposed that his presence alone was enough to indicate that he was prepared to assist them however her could. Still, he didn't like the way things were going.

"I think, Miss Smithe," Loki began, "that Mr Rosen is finding there to be a problem with my involvement. And, being Silver-tongued, might I suggest that he … how do you mortals say it? Oh, yes: _Piss off_."

A guffaw came from Alex, but he smothered it with his hand and morphed it into a cough when West gave him a dirty look.

Tracy cut the tension with a steely tone. "This is the way I have decided things have to be. Either get with it or get out."

West looked like he'd sampled something sour for a moment, but he flicked his gaze over at Loki and changed his expression immediately. Loki supposed that it wouldn't do to look fragile in front of an enemy.

"Do we just have to worry about Nox?" asked Sparrow. Her jaw was moving oddly now, and Loki noted that she was chewing gum or some such thing.

Tracy shook her head. "Unfortunately, no. A company by the name of 'Sonin' is making a little head-way in medicinal drugs at the moment. We believed there was a bit of an ... underbelly to all of it, that could, possibly, have included some experimental research performed on humans. There were several links between them and the disappearance of individuals that were known to use and abuse drugs or alcohol, and whose vanishings have been considered to be as a result of either an overdose or other hallucinogen-related circumstances. The police werenot surprised, and all family there would be to back it up has long since given up on their drug-effected loved ones. It's a sad but regular story, butI don't think they all crept off into the woods to shoot up with something dodgy."

"You believe this ... Sonin has been taking people?"

"I do now," answered Tracy. "Claire was the one who first brought it to my attention. She's a bit of a Twitter stalker, and the CEO ... well, he's a bit of a celebrity at the moment. Anyway, according to Claire, the missing persons always went missing on the same night that there was some great, big event at Sonin headquarters that _all_ employees and their associates were attending."

Alex pressed his lips together. "Alibis for them and everyone involved with them."

Tracy nodded. "Exactly. And we wouldn't have picked up on the pattern if it wasn't for Claire. She likes to pay attention to medical discoveries, and that - coupled with her obsession with Twitter - is ultimately what got us this lead."

Loki couldn't help but smirk a little. It seemed that Claire did not just surprise him on a regular basis.

"Unfortunately," Tracy went on, "the Board wasn't too convinced about the importance of these connections ..." She looked around at the varying stages of contempt that were being displayed on her co-workers' (and Loki's) face. "... and I did, also. I didn't think it was too big of a deal, considering all else that's been going on around here. But Claire did, and she went above our heads to get clearance from Angela to investigate further. She batted her eyelashes, Angela's icy heart melted, and Claire got what she wanted. As per usual.

"Anyway, Claire went in prepared for a routine investigation. She got herself a date to a charity ball with a board executive at Sonin, and everything was set. I don't think she even took a gun." There was something doubtful in Tracy's eyes, something akin to guilt, but it passed quickly. "She wasn't even going in hooked up or anything. Radio silence, not because of the danger of having an in-ear or anything else concealed that could be found, but because she waved it off as 'irrelevant and frivolous' at the time."

"She only ever uses big words when she's bluffing," said Alex. Sparrow and Abigail nodded in agreement.

"Regardless of all of that," continued Tracy, "the fact of the matter remains: she didn't come back. She didn't call and check in when she was supposed to, and she's still at the facility."

"How do you know?" asked Loki. "If she was going in without surveillance, then -"

Abigail cut him off. "Our friend Molly is kind of like a GPS, but for people, not things. She knows where everyone is, no matter what. She helped Claire find you, actually."

_"I know people," _Claire had said. And she wasn't lying, evidently.

"How are we going in tonight?" asked Sparrow.

"Maintenance," said Tracy. "I hope none of you have an aversion to overalls."

Alex laughed at the paling of West's face. "I think West is allergic to any denim that isn't fashionable."

Loki, who was still mulling the facts over and over in his mind, pressed a finger to the corner of his lips. "Hang on," he said. And they did. "If you thought this was a routine job then, how do you know that this ... Nox ... is there now?"

The guilt returned to Tracy's eyes and she glanced at the floor for a moment before forcing her eyes up to meet Loki's. "I didn't check. I'm supposed to check, because she's one of my team, but I didn't. Molly runs through the area and looks for any substantial meta-human signatures where we're sending people into places we don't know, but I didn't bother. It was a clean-cut, in-and-out-again mission. Or so I thought."

Loki understood, then. Tracy felt guilty because she was responsible for Claire. Claire, who was prone to doing foolish things that put herself at risk (but never others, it seemed), was under Tracy's care. "I assume your team consists of those gathered here?"

Tracy shook her head. "No. Well, it includes them, but it's not just them. And it isn't strictly a team, but ... I trained them, and I assimilated them into the Company. I'm responsible for them. And for Claire, too. Though I never trained her, and she doesn't know that I put myself in charge of her safety. And it's gonna stay that way."

Loki nodded hesitantly. He had never been one to take orders, but he had never been one to 'lay low' and 'go with the flow,' either. And he'd been doing that a lot lately. Maybe the track this road was leading him down would allow some room for mischief.

Tracy turned back to the group at large. "West," she barked, back to business, "you go and get the weapons ready. Take Abigail with you - she looks far too happy for what we're attempting tonight."

"What should I bring?" West asked, standing up and tucking his chair in.

"Just a picnic mat, some blankets," quipped Tracy. "I dunno, make it up. We're going in with an existentialist - if that means we need a nuclear bomb, get me a nuclear bomb. Use your brain and think through the scenarios. I know you can do it; I taught you how to do it. Go."

West didn't seem particularly impressed at Tracy's ordering him about, but he obeyed anyway. Loki felt that this spoke volumes for Tracy's commanding respect in her 'troops.'

Once Abigail had bounced out of the room, West following her with a stiff stride, Tracy turned to the remaining people in the room. "Sparrow, I need you to check in with Matt and see what he thinks about strategy. He can't come with us because Janice is due in the next couple days, but he can still work for his money with his brain, if not everyone else's." Sparrow nodded and slipped out of the room quietly. "Alex?"

"Yup?"

"You're going to be checking on Claire's emails from family and friends. Try to sound like her when you reply, but keep it short. She won't like the deception being prolonged at all, if possible. I just want to make sure Sandra doesn't come storming over to the Texas office like last time."

Alex smirked. "I'll get right on that. But what if she wants a call back? Can I do voices?"

"NO." Tracy was obviously (to Loki, anyway) fighting a smile as she commanded Alex to leave. "Get out. Now."

Alex laughed and stood, saluting her. "Yes ma'am."

When Alex's whistle had stopped echoing down the hall, Loki turned to Tracy. "And what will you have me do?" he asked in a tone that mimicked subservience.

Tracy gave him a dry, withering look. "You are going to come with me."

Loki did ponder whether to follow her or whizz himself away. These people were far too sentimental and familiar, and the Abigail smiled at him like he was just another one of her friends really did turn his stomach a little. It would be beneath him to pursue this, but he was ... just ... so ... _bored_ ...

And she left.

And he followed her.

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**There, mah loveliessss! I hope you enjoyed ... actually, I don't hope you enjoyed. Maybe if you didn't enjoy, you'd review. That would be a pleasant thing that _I_ would enjoy.**

**I am sorry that it was a little shorter than the last, but I'm happy (ish) with it. Lemme know! :)**

**Anyhoo, REVIEW! **


	3. BAMF

**The third chapter. I am excited, I just don't sound it. Am ... so ... TIRED ...**

**Also, I am kind of on a roll with plot and planning. And while I am really enjoying this, I would adore some reviews. Much thanks to****___GenoBeas_****_t_**** for being the one to break the review-able ice! In dogged thanks, this chapter is dedicated to you. So sorry it's little late! School's been paining my ass.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything except what I do. Figure it out for ur-selfs.**

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**CHAPTER THREE**

**BAMF**

It had been a long, hard week for Tracy Strauss. She'd been arguing with her fiancee, Michael Foley, who had decided that she didn't spend enough time with him. He was a normal, average human who didn't understand the extended trips and irregular hours that were involved with working for a Paper Company. Which made sense, but didn't make it easier for Tracy to deal with him.

Tracy and Michael (never 'Mike,' because he was very proper) had been dating for almost two years by this time. They had met at a wedding reception when Tracy was posing as an event planner (to make sure the bride wasn't going to turn anyone's body parts into fruit) and Michael was the best man. It had been nice to have someone that admired order, even if he thought she was only bringing order in event planning and, then, selling paper. He didn't need to know that her OCD was put into play on life-and-death missions, or that she was commanding and strict and firm because she had to be in order to keep people calm and focused. He didn't need to know that instead of being the Head of Primatech Paper Sales for Manhattan, she was the Head of Operations for Manhattan. Technicalities.

But, of late, Tracy had spent more time working and obsessing over work than actually focusing on her relationship and trying to better it. She had agreed to marry Michael, but she told him that she needed time to get her affairs in order before they began to plan the wedding. Now, six months after the initial engagement, Michael was pushing to start planning things. She was an ex-wedding planner, after all. It should be simple, right?

But Tracy had discovered that she actually, really, _really_ _didn't want to_. She didn't want to get married. Not when she was living a covert life. She didn't want to be like Noah Bennet, hiding a career of danger from a spouse and then children. She didn't want to take time off to have children. She didn't want to have to worry about her family being harmed because she had made enemies. She didn't want to sleep with a gun under her pillow every night, desperately hoping that she wouldn't have to use it and, in equal-parts, that her husband wouldn't find it.

She could, of course, tell Michael. But that wasn't as simple as it sounded when she really thought about it. It wasn't just saying something and then sitting back for him to digest it. She didn't think he would still love her if he knew. He was a simple, traditional man of good breeding and really basic values, and he wasn't likely to accept Tracy's world, Tracy's ___family _without flinching. He would, most likely, call her crazy and walk away. And she wasn't altogether sure that she didn't want him to.

But she didn't have time think about Michael or the potential (but no longer probable) wedding. She didn't have time to concern herself with trivial matters of the heart because Claire was missing. And this time wasn't like the other times, and Tracy had no idea what to do.

The Board didn't want anything to do with it. In fact, they thought that Claire was probably just staying back at the facility to mack with her date. Tracy knew better, and Angela did, too, but the Board were the ones that made the decisions. Usually, Tracy was quite comfortable with that. But not this time. This time was completely different.

So Tracy went through the resources she had. She had her team, of course - well, those who weren't already on assignments. She was glad that Sparrow, Abbie, Alex and West had agreed to help her. She needed them. If not for their abilities, then for that fact that she trusted them implicitly.

But their firepower wasn't going to be enough for the best case scenario, let alone the worst. They were good fighters, all of them, but they weren't going to be enough. She needed something that would tip the scales in her favour, no matter what, and for that, she needed someone that didn't just have ONE ability. She needed someone more malleable than that.

The obvious choice was Gabriel. His list of abilities was endless, and Tracy was one of the few that had ceased to flinch at the thought of what he could do and where he had gotten it from. She trusted him, mostly, because she had been one of the people to oversee his rehabilitation. Peter aside, she was considered the best judge of his character and abilities at that time.

But Claire wouldn't like it, and Claire was important. Saving Claire from being wiped out would go a little way to put him back in her good books, but Tracy didn't know what state Claire would be in when they found her, and that wasn't something she was going to play around with. She didn't want Claire to be afraid or further traumatised by what she had endured in there when she saw the murderer of ___both_her parents pop out of the shadows with guns blazing.

It had, actually, been Claude who had suggested Loki. Claire had been determined to get him on-side, and despite her tendency to sugar-coat things it was starting to sound like she was making head-way. And that was good for her. And Loki was, undeniably, the most powerful being on Earth at that point in time.

So Tracy stalked him for a day. She was supposed to have lunch with Michael and her 'future in-laws,' but she skipped it in favour of saving Claire. This was completely justifiable in her mind, but Michael had no such information to help calm his hysteria. She had yet to pick up his calls.

She hadn't thought Loki would agree to come, but she had to try. Him being in New York was a pleasantly convenient surprise, but it didn't make her think it would be easy to get him on-board. But, she acted confident and self-assured, and it had worked. For now.

Well, 'for now' was a bit of a misnomer. After actually meeting Loki and discovering that he was, in fact, interested in helping her, Tracy was ___fairly _certain that he wouldn't change his mind. But then again, he ___was _the God of Mischief. And Lies, as he had pointed out.

They were now on their way to see Micah and get Loki signed in to the system. Claire may have not gone in hooked up, but every single person going on this mission would be. Tracy would not let that mistake be repeated. And, while they were there, Molly would check for any more posthuman energy signatures in the area. Molly tended to be in the same room as Micah more often than not for reasons unknown. (They were still only 'friends,' supposedly.)

Loki, for his part, was walking three paces behind Tracy at an ambling and careless pace. Tracy had always been a tall woman (to the point where she couldn't stand to wear heels when out with Michael, pun intended), but Loki took tall to a whole new level. He was other-worldly ginormous - the kind that she would almost attribute to some sort of ability, should he be human (or metahuman, as it were). He was actually kind of intimidating, truth be told, but she didn't let it show. She kept her head high and focused on where she was going and what she was doing and who she was saving, not who she was doing all of the above with.

Upon arrival, Micah looked up from his computer and gave Tracy one of his winning smiles that never failed to make her heart melt just a little bit. She then froze it up again, but Micah was always the one to melt it. The only other person that had even come close was Claire.

___Claire__,_ Tracy reminded herself. ___We have to save Claire._

"Hey, Tracy," greeted a sweet voice from the corner. Molly Walker (now technically Molly Parkman) was sitting in her usual spot, a pile of street maps to her left on a little table and a paperback novel in her hands. Molly often traded in the real world for one of someone else's creation.___Happy endings are guaranteed in there__,_ she'd say. And she was right.

"Hey, Molls," Tracy replied instinctively. Molly was small and sweet and kind, and she was very good to Micah. Tracy would always have a bit of a soft spot (to go with the many other soft spots she was beginning to collect like commemorative coins) for Molly.

To her credit, Molly kept her smile up when Loki entered the room behind Tracy. It did falter a little, but she still kept it in place as she looked him over. Tracy guessed she wasn't the only person intimidated by Loki.

Tracy turned to best face everyone, with her back against a wall. "Loki," she said, "this is my nephew, Micah, and his friend, Molly." She had to resist the urge to put floating finger quotation marks around _friend_. Loki didn't have to be privy to any personal information.

Molly, ever the social butterfly, widened her smile and nodded at Loki. "It's nice to meet you."

Loki snorted. "I highly doubt that."

Molly had the grace to not look openly offended, and she didn't retaliate, either. Tracy came pretty close to melting again when Molly continued, saying, "That's okay. I doubt you're enjoying meeting me," and shrugged nonchalantly.

Raising an eyebrow, Loki nodded approvingly. "I think I just might be now."

"Oookaaayyyy," interrupted Tracy. "Let's get started, shall we?" She turned to Micah. "What have you got for us?"

Micah kicked off from the edge of his desk and slid across the office floor on his wheeled-chair, much like a child in a swimming pool. Tracy rolled her eyes at this just as Molly snorted, and the two exchanged a long-suffering look.

Micah reached his destination by walking the chair backwards with his feet as he didn't quite make it to the other side of the room with his great kick-off. He laughed good-naturedly and Tracy could hear Molly swooning. Which did make things a little awkward, but that made sense, all things considered. She was in a room with a demigod, her nephew, and said nephew's almost-girlfriend. It was an interesting mix that Tracy wasn't quite sure she was comfortable with.

Oh, well. Never a dull moment at Primatech.

Sliding open a drawer, Micah asked, "What do you think you'll be needing?"

Tracy shrugged and moved a little closer to peer into the drawer. "I don't really mind. Just ... well, we're expecting trouble, so keep that in mind. Nothing too flashy, or the Board will have something to say about it, but just some functional things that'll stay on us in a fight."

Micah nodded slowly and rifled through the electronics until he found what he was looking for. "Got it," he said, somewhat unnecessarily as he waved it up in the air and slammed the drawer shut.

Tracy and Molly exchanged a very interesting look that Loki couldn't help but think needed an explanation later on.

What Micah held aloft looked very much like a watch.. "Communications device?"

A Loki-level smirk stole over Micah's face. "And more."

"How much more?" asked Tracy. "And is it worth our time to bother with it? I love your inventions, Micah, but we really don't have time for -"

"You're gonna love it," Micah vowed. "I promise. Just ... hear me out, okay?"

Tracy folded her arms over her chest and sighed. "Fine. But ... make it quick. We're leaving tonight, and there's other stuff we need to do before then as well."

Micah nodded. "Will do," he said. "Now ... " He turned to the room at large. "This is not a normal watch. I mean, it does tell the time, and it does double as a communications device, but it's ... well, just _watch_." He clicked the small button on the side that was supposed to be pressed to allow the time shown to be changed, and there was a high pitched _beep_.

Great cries erupted from about the place, and Tracy was immediately alarmed. Then, Micah clicked the button again and the beeping stopped, and then the confusion as well.

"What did that just do?" Tracy demanded.

"Turned of their technology," said Micah. "I came up with it when I was watching___The Dark Knight_."

"All right," Tracy said crisply. "Thank you, that will be very helpful. If you'd just ... hand it over, we can continue." Micah looked a little confused. "If you think I am going to let you keep a hold of something like that after how much you just obviously enjoyed setting it off, you are going to be in trouble."

Micah laughed and handed it over. "Yeah, okay. But that's not all it does. The communications is more complex than usual - you enter the number of people in your team and assign each of them a codename: A, B, C, etcetera. Then each individual watch is synchronised - time, everything. There's another feature I'm working on to allow a small device to be inserted into the wearer to be coupled with the watch and keep an eye on any vital signs, but for now it only monitors pulse through a panel in the wrist band. I can also access any information on the wearers' whereabouts from here." He gestured to the computer screen. "I am also planning on making these standard issue and for everyone, desk-workers and the missionaries, but I have a few bugs I need to work out. But I do have ten that are ready for the taking, if you'll have them."

Tracy looked down at the device in her hand and struggled to find words. "That ... that's brilliant, Micah."

"I know," Micah said with a grin.

"I'll take six, then," Tracy said. "Thank you."

"Not a problem," Micah said with a grin. "I'm glad for the chance to use them. What's all this for, anyway?"

___Oops__. _"We're just going on a mission. Just a retrieval."

"'Retrieval?' Like, of a person?"

"Yes, Micah," scoffed Molly. "A person. I told you they were going out for that."

"Yeah, but you wouldn't tell me who it was. Went all 'confidential' on me."

Sick and tired of the superfluous back-and-forth, Loki said, "It is Agent Claire Bennet. She has gotten herself into trouble."

"_Again_?" exclaimed Micah.

Tracy appeared to be decidedly uncomfortable. "Yes," she hissed. "Again. Now, can we just get five more of these and be on our way?"

"Sure," said Micah, looking a little miffed. He turned around and opened the drawer again, picking out five more of the watches. He tossed each of them to Tracy, who caught them effortlessly and with an accuracy that did not decrease as her arms were filled with the devices.

"Thank you," Tracy said. "I'll get them back to you when we return."

Micah waved a hand dismissively. "Nah," he said. "Don't worry 'bout it. I have four more, and the other models. Keep them." He looked at Loki. "You too, if you stay. I assume you won't want us knowing exactly where you are if you're leaving after this."

Loki smirked. "Not having a device planted on my person to track me by has not halted my being found in the past." He flicked his eyes to Molly for a moment, who blushed under his gaze. He knew that she was the one that always found him for Claire. But somehow, he just couldn't bring himself to mind that much.

"Well, keep it anyway," said Micah. "No harm done; we have a duplicator to get us more of the exact model if we need it."

"Thank you, Micah," said Tracy. "I don't know what we'd do without you." She pecked a kiss on his cheek, then Molly's, then turned to face them all again. "We'd best be going," she said, gesturing to herself and Loki. "Have some other things to get done before tonight. But I'll be sure to let you know how it goes."

They turned to leave, Loki first, but Tracy stopped and looked back at them. "And Micah …"

"Yeah?"

"Please don't tell Noah - or, God forbid, Sandra."

Micah smirked. "Wouldn't dream of it. Just don't tell them I knew and didn't tell them, either."

"Wouldn't dream of it," echoed Tracy. She followed Loki out and shut the door behind them.

"Where to now?" asked Loki. He was trying his best to seem bored by the whole affair, but Primatech was just so very ___alive_, and for someone that had spent so much time of late pretending to be anything but alive it was a welcome change of pace. Everyone was too busy to stare and whisper, and they somehow didn't actually care about who he was anyway. He felt like he owed much more to Claire than he had ever realised, because when she had said that she was working hard to get him on-side she hadn't just been talking about convincing him. Claire Bennet, that nuisance of a girl, had been convincing her colleagues, too.

"We're going to get you signed into the system on a temporary basis," Tracy replied. "And no arguing. We need a general set-up if we're going to use you in the operation. It's Company regulation to at least _attempt_ to submit a file. But, seeing as the Board don't technically know about your involvement in this yet and won't until it's over, I think that it would be best to try and submit it but … well, it may not go through. Technology is so very unpredictable these days."

Loki thought back to the smirk Molly and Tracy had exchanged when Micah had been parading the watches. "And you plan on shutting down the communications so that you may attempt to submit my profile, but not actually submitting it?"

"Yes." Tracy didn't even try to deny it. "And you're very welcome."

Loki smirked. "I believe I underestimated your penchant for trickery, Agent Strauss."

"Call me Tracy," she said quickly.

"On first name basis, are we?" asked Loki. "I'm not certain I'm comfortable with that."

"Well, get over it. It's quicker and easier and just all-'round more effective."

"Then by all means, Tracy," said Loki. The name felt odd on his tongue, like it should have a 'Lady' prefixed before it. This was not because he felt respect for her, though he did (a little more than he felt was necessary). It was more because she felt like someone that should be respected by the rest of the common-folk, even though she didn't pretend to be more than common herself. She reminded him a little of Lady Sif, but he liked her much better. She was just as threatening, but there was more of a steadiness to her nature. She wasn't mooning over Thor, and that was what made the difference, Loki thought. He could take her seriously because she wasn't drooling at the feet of an idiot.

Tracy led the way through Primatech. This time no one looked up to greet her. She was moving with more purpose, and not a single person interrupted her. A few glanced up, but none actually spoke. No one dared, Loki guessed.

He was beginning to like Primatech.

On the whole, it was very much like S.H.I.E.L.D., as previously mentioned, but there was less pomp-and-circumstance (a Midgardian phrase Loki was particularly fond of). They did not stand on so much ceremony, did not adhere to the law. Sure, they were expected to answer for moral judgments made on the field, but there was not so much politics. Just business, and getting to it.

As they walked, things got quieter. They passed the open spaces and went down some corridors, which all looked the same to Loki but Tracy got her way 'round without any obvious difficulty at all. There were doors with labels on them, like 'Merle Pattinson, Counselling Services' and a number that were marked 'Files: A-D; D-F' and so forth. It was all very ordered.

When they finally reached a door labelled 'Tracy Strauss, Head of Operations,' Tracy passed a card from her belt over a screen. The door beeped and there was a click as it opened slightly, and she pushed it open further and walked in. This time, like when entering other rooms in Primatech, she stood back while holding the door and let Loki walk in before she shut the door behind him with her hip because her arms were still filled with Micah's watches.

Tracy's office was not as Loki had expected, and the sight of it eradicated any and all thoughts of Sif's relevance completely. The room was about the size of his washroom in Asgard, which meant it was well-sized. He had not seen many offices in his time on Midgard – somehow, they didn't seem important – but this seemed to be a decently sized place for the kind of work Tracy would need to complete in it. The walls were littered with artworks, but not good ones. They were all awful with scrawled writing in the corners, saying 'Mary' or 'Jan' or 'Luke.' Most of them depicted at least two people holding hands, and the tallest always had bright yellow hair. He supposed it was a childish imitation of Tracy's blonde hair.

"The children," said Tracy, seeing Loki's gaze drifting over the walls. "The orphans, actually. Well, not all of them are orphaned, but they're as good as."

Loki raised an eyebrow. "You have time to visit them often? I gathered the impression that you were fairly busy."

"Not often at the moment," Tracy said easily, putting the devices on her desk. "Working for Primatech is kind of like pregnancy. We work in 9 month shifts. One on, two off. The time off can be interrupted in the case of a crisis, which does happen regularly. We like to space things out more for our people, because there are lots of us, and it isn't always necessary to have everyone tripping over each other. But I don't work like that too often. I do a year-on, year-off type thing with Peter Petrelli, my partner in crime for this area. He's Claire's uncle. His office is across from mine, actually. His is pretty clean, though. He keeps all his little drawings from the kids at his apartment here in the city. Doesn't like to be reminded of them too much when he's on-shift during the day, but when he goes home to sleep I know he reads the letters and inspects the pictures. He's sentimental like that."

She seemed to realise that she'd gone rather off-topic then, because she shook her head and gestured to her desk, which – unlike the rest of the room – was perfectly clean, with just a laptop, a pad of paper and a tin of pens. And, of course, the watches. As would be expected, there was a very comfortable-looking chair for Tracy to sit at and then, across from that, three less-comfortable-but-still-acceptable-looking chairs. She gestured for Loki to sit in one, and he did.

As she was sitting down, Tracy said, "I'd offer you a drink, but the break-room is all the way down the hall and I don't have time."

"Not a problem," replied Loki easily. He waved a hand and a coffee was sitting in front of him, steaming hot and just how he liked it. And his mug was an emerald green, which did not escape Tracy's notice. "What can I get you?"

Tracy looked a little surprised, but not much. She had seen quite as few wiggy things in her time, so this wasn't too phasing. "I'd love to ask for some bourbon, but I'm on the clock."

Loki laughed. "Tea, then?"

"Chamomile," said Tracy, and then it was in front of her, housed in a mug labelled 'Best Dad Ever.' Loki had quite a strange sense of humour, she noted. "Thank you …" She looked at the mugs critically. "I don't suppose you could summon some coasters for us? This is a nice desk, and I'd rather keep it that way."

He did, but they were fluoro yellow. Tracy resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him, and it wasn't too hard to do. She just slipped on her professional face, and that was that. "Now," she said, flipping open the laptop and starting it up. "Your profile. Just out of curiosity, what would you like your field-name to be?"

"Field-name?"

"Don't watch too many spy-movies, do you?" asked Tracy, tapping away her password. "A field-name is was we will call you instead of 'Loki.'"

"But … surely that it a useless thing to do. What if I do not respond?"

"That's why you know your field-name," said Tracy. "I know this probably sounds ridiculous, but just trust me. It works. It's the way you're identified with units that are not directly involved with us, and it's a mental thing, too. When you're in the field, you don't want to be Loki. Loki is an asshole with a bit of a god-complex, and we don't need to be working with him. We need someone that is trained and prepared to follow protocol. In your case, you are not trained in our ways or prepared to follow protocol – I do know you're the God of Mischief – but you're in the system on a temporary basis. When I'm in the field, I'm _Jadis_."

"_Jadis_?" asked Loki. "Why?"

"She's an ice-queen from a classic book series. She takes over a country and places it in an eternal state of winter. See, it has a connection to my ability, and it has a connection to one of my favourite authors. It means something, and I won't ever forget it. And, because I've been answering to it for the entirety of my career in Primatech, it puts me in the mind-set I need. Now, what do you think yours should be?"

"I honestly have no idea," said Loki. And he didn't.

Tracy thought about it for a little longer. "Well … Hmm. This is interesting … I guess that because your favourite colour is green and all, we could call you the Hulk, but …" She saw him flinch. "Maybe not. Hmm …" Then she smirked. "_Greenpeace_."

"What?"

"_Greenpeace_. It's an organisation hell-bent on saving the planet. And, well … it's ironic, and it includes your favourite colour." She chuckled at her own genius as her laptop finally finished loading up. "Greenpeace. _Genius_."

Her fingers flew over the keys as she began Loki's profile, which left Loki to think for a while. He looked over pictures tacked to the walls, and remembered the orphans and the good-as-orphans. "Where do they live?" he asked.

"Who?" Tracy didn't look up from the screen, didn't falter in her typing.

"The children."

"Oh." Tracy frowned a little, but still didn't look up at him. "We own an island. A secret island."

At first, Loki thought she was joking. But she didn't seem to be. "Where?"

"I'm not telling you that," said Tracy.

"You didn't seem to have an issue with bringing me here," said Loki. If he was being completely honest, he was a little offended.

"I am more than happy to share information regarding the adult participants of this organisation, but when it comes to the children; only if you're a permanent member and, even then, I might not. You're not exactly a poster-child for trustworthiness. More for trust issues."

"Fair enough," said Loki. And it was fair enough. He had once tried to take over the very city they were currently in. Well, under. "So, they live in this _Citadel_?"

"With any officers that aren't on shift," said Tracy. "And Sandra, Claire's adoptive mother. She's a trooper, looking after them all the time. Never goes on holiday, rarely even sleeps. Sometimes I wonder if she's human or not. Bloody brilliant woman. Don't want to get her mad, though."

"So when you are having time off you live in the Citadel?"

"Well, sort of," said Tracy. "I don't really have time-off. Peter and I … well, we have two jobs. One is as the Heads of Operations here, but when we're not here, we head training facilities at The Citadel. It's not technically time-off, but it's more fun."

"So … you train new agents?"

"We try to. Some decide they won't be able to do it and volunteer for cleaning services or something, others ask to do desk-work. Everyone has to contribute, but not everyone has to be kick-ass."

"Sounds like a well-functioning system," Loki praised.

Tracy stopped typing then, eyeing him suspiciously. "It is," she said. "Don't even think about fucking it up."

Loki laughed. "I think we just might get along, Agent Strauss." She glared at him. "Tracy, then. So, if I were to agree to join this organisation, what would be the process of induction?"

"Training," Tracy said simply. "The exact same that everybody else goes through."

Loki did not seem to be impressed by this. "But … surely I am much more qualified than the rest, and –"

"Doesn't matter," Tracy interrupted. "Our company runs on respect, and that's something you have to earn. They might respect what you can do, but they have to respect that you know what you're doing. We make choices in life-or-death situations, and I won't compromise our operations for anyone. Not even a demigod."

"Very well, then," said Loki. "What does this training involve? How long does it go on for?"

"Everything, and however long is necessary," said Tracy. "You go through physical examinations, mental examinations, emotional examinations. Everyone has baggage, and we can't magically make it disappear. We do teach our students how to compartmentalise and not only work, but to not work when the time comes to let it all go. It's very stressful, and we can't have our agents going nuts all the time. That's basically what most of S.H.I.E.L.D. does." She smirked at him. "Are you signing up? Claire will be furious that you decided to when she wasn't there."

"No," said Loki. "I am exploring my options."

Tracy laughed. "Well, explore away. We need more firepower, and I have a feeling that watching you train and then work would be highly entertaining. Most of the students going through at the same time as you won't have finished puberty."

"Well now I'm definitely not going to do it," said Loki. But he was joking, and he felt that Tracy knew that.

"Done," said Tracy. "Now, to submit. I'm gonna need your help with this."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Take a watch," she said, "and put your finger on the button Micah did. When I say go, I'm gonna press submit, and you're gonna press that button at the same time. Brings about a nice symmetry."

Loki nodded and fetched the watch, getting into position.

"Ready? Okay: Three … two … one."

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**There 'tis! I hope you enjoyed reading that - it was a little fluffier than the next one will be. Okay, a lot fluffier than the next one will be.**

**Review!**


	4. The Middle of Nowhere

**Chapter four. Yay!**

**So sorry about the wait––I've been on a trip to chat with some folks 'bout publishing and all that (which is über exciting, by the way; I suggest it to all of you at some point if you're serious about writing, not just reading) but I'm back now! :)**

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I see nuttink, I hear nuttink, I own nuttink!**

**CHAPTER IV**

_**The Middle of Nowhere**_

Loki did offer to teleport the team to the place where Claire was being held, but he was politely declined. Well, politely declined by the women and Alex, but West was a little more complicated. It seemed that the young man still wasn't completely accepting of Loki's presence, but he hadn't voiced his concerns quite as vehemently as he had in the first meeting since Tracy had started glaring at him. Tracy's glares were not a thing to be ignored, apparently.

So instead of Loki's solution, the team travelled by Hiro and then truck.

Loki wasn't sure what to make of Hiro, their resident time-traveller. He was short and a little portly and very, very smiley, even to a "billain." It was amusing to observe, but he seemed very much focused on speaking with Loki and not everyone else that he already knew. And so Loki could only conclude that an undiluted Hiro was a nightmare, but perhaps observing this nightmare from a distance as it attacked someone else with constant questions (like Tony Stark, or even Thor) could be quite a bit of the best sort of fun.

The truck part was questioned by West (who seemed to question everything), as was the fact that Hiro was not coming with them, to which Tracy replied curtly, "Not everything is about Claire. I'm sure Hiro would love to come and help, but he has other things to do. And the reason we're not going straight there immediately is because (a) I want the equipment and all of that, and (b) I need to scope out the exits and such first. Do try to think sometimes," and left it at that.

Hiro said farewell with a slight bow that made Loki smirk, and then they were in a smelly truck with a covered back that they could all sit in. The bumps they went over were ridiculous, and at one point Alex ended up in West's lap, which caused snickers from all but the one whose lap was being abused––but Loki felt that that had less to do with his involvement and more to do with his own attitude.

The rest of the journey was relatively boring in the back, but, seeing as Tracy was in the front driving, Loki could only assume that they were all on edge without her there to be with them. Despite her fearsome attitude, she did seem to genuinely bring them comfort. Loki supposed he had once felt similarly about his father, though he shuddered to think of it.

Growing sick of the silence, Loki zapped himself to a seat in the front, right beside Tracy. She had declined the company of anyone else with her in the beginning, but Loki was giving her no choice.

She seemed to genuinely not notice him when he first appeared, and so it was with great joy that he said, "Fancy seeing you here," and saw her start. The truck nearly went off the road, but she wrestled with the steering wheel and managed to keep it on.

Once she was comfortable with how things were going again, she replied, though her teeth, "Yes. Fancy. What do you want?"

"Nothing," Loki said, shrugging. "I was just bored, is all."

"Well forgive me for not seeing that there was in-flight entertainment provided," Tracy snarked, screwing up her face. She then stopped herself, and Loki was sure if she'd been able to spare a hand she would have slapped herself. "Sorry," she said, and as far as he could tell it was sincere. "I didn't mean to snap. It's just a little tense here, and I would love it if you could pop back into the back with everyone else."

Loki pretended to look behind himself––well, he did, but they were blocked off from everyone else by a layer of flapping, somehow mud-stained canvas. "But they are what is boring me."

"Well, poor you," said Tracy with a definite pout. "I suppose you'll just have to switch to worrying like the rest of us."

"Worrying is pointless," replied Loki. "It's a thing invented by humans to give them something to do because they can't actually do anything."

"Well, excuse me, but I think we're doing something right now. And worrying was not invented by us––it's a side-effect of love. But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Loki tensed his jaw. "No, I wouldn't. The monster would have no clue of love; only fear and death."

Regret was rearing on Tracy's face. "You're not a monster. You're … complicated."

"Your conviction is astounding."

"I mean it. Claire was sure of it, and so am I."

"Not quite so much as her, I think."

Tracy sighed. "You're a very difficult person, aren't you?"

Loki smiled. "Apparently, it runs in my family."

"Your family isn't you."

"I beg to differ."

"Differ away––it won't change anything. I know who you are."

"Do you really? So you have no qualms about my being here whatsoever?"

"Qualms? No. Other than your obvious obsession with making me mad."

"It is not an obsession. It is a hobby." Loki gave his signature grin.

Tracy sighed as though the weight of the world was on her shoulders. Which it wasn't––at least, not all of it. Some of the world was. "Please, just … go back there. I can't stand the distraction at the moment."

"Distraction?" asked Loki nonchalantly. "Well, you know what they say about distraction, Miss Strauss. It is only a few letters away from attraction, and then …" He trailed off, smirking.

Tracy rolled her eyes. "Please shut up."

They hit a bump in the road and Tracy was vaulted out of her chair for a moment before landing again, her chair squeaking from the impact.

"Where did you manage to procure this fine vehicle?" asked Loki.

"I know people," Tracy said through her teeth, which were clenched so tight Loki could hear them grinding. Either that or it was just the truck squeaking.

Tracy's statement, however, was so like Claire's that Loki paused for a moment. "Claire used to say that a lot."

"I assure you––she still does. Claire isn't the kind of person that stops saying things in fear of being redundant. She takes redundant to a whole new level." The talk of Claire, whose position was precarious at best, was obviously perplexing Tracy. She gripped the wheel so tight her fingers lost all their colour.

"But whom does she know?" asked Loki. "I understand how she found me all those times – – Molly Walker being the person she knew for that – – but something about her tells me that she is not … well, she did not get into this business recently. She grew up in it."

"How did you guess that?"

"For a start, she is remarkably cool-headed. Not many would face me without batting an eyelid."

"Claire is immortal. Eyelid-batting is no longer in her nature."

"There are worse things than death, and I think she knows that. I can inflict awful terrors upon people – – I have inflicted awful terrors upon people – – and she knows what I am capable of. But she did not back away. Therefore, she is clear-headed and weighed up her options. She understood that I was a valuable asset that ought to be obtained for her company, and so she did her best to make it happen. And, in a round-about way, she is succeeding."

"You're right," said Tracy, "except for one thing: Claire never saw you as an asset that we needed to gain. That was just the way she chose to pitch it to everyone else. For her, you were …"

"A challenge?"

"No. Claire's idea of challenges involve sleepovers in the Himalayas. I honestly think she just cared about you. For all your power, you were homeless. You travelled to gain perspective, and she knew the only way for you to find the perspective you longed for was for you to settle with people that cared about you. People that cared _for_ you."

"She wanted to claim me as a part of her family?"

"Sort of. I think that Claire has done a lot of growing up in the last few years, and she still will for a few years to come. Maybe she'll never stop learning. But there is one thing she knows intimately well, one thing she can never be taught more about, and that's family. And forgiveness, too."

"Family and forgiveness?" Loki scoffed. "No wonder she sought me out. I must be a perfect test subject for her inclinations."

Tracy glared at him for one moment before turning her head back to look at the road, her pony-tail whipping around her neck as she did so. "She was so right about you. You poke fun and make scathing remarks when you don't understand what's going on. And yes: family and forgiveness. She was adopted, she was lied to, she was betrayed by her father. She lost both her biological parents to the same man, and then forgave him. You don't know her. You saw her a few times, a blip on your radar of threats, and you kept her at arm's length because you didn't want to know what it was like to feel again. You think that your betrayal is the ultimate betrayal, and that you are therefore above all the rest of us who have perfect lives. But no one has that, Loki. No one believes they have that. Maybe we believe other people have perfect lives, but that's just because we don't know them."

"She forgave the murderer of her parents?"

Tracy gave a sigh as if to say, _Of course that's what stands out to you. _"Yes, she did. And he killed her a few times as well. Still, she looked him in the eye and forgave him. It wasn't easy, but she did it, and I am so proud of her for it. I oversaw his rehabilitation, and now he's working for us. A happy ending."

"A happy ending that involves the murderer of her family walking free?"

"Claire accepts that her family was not the only one destroyed by Sylar. She knows that she does not have the sole right to end his life because there are other people chomping at the bit to do it themselves. Sylar … Gabriel doesn't need more enemies. He needs allies. Claire saw that, and she gave it to him. Of course, there are extenuating circumstances."

"Such as?"

"Such as the fact that Gabriel Gray had an evil alter-ego that made him go around murdering people. Like a dissociative disorder, but more violent than the norm. And the former Primatech, the one that came before us, pushed him to be like that because they were fascinated. They thought that once he had exhibited the signs they wanted they could capture him, study him, then put him down for good. They underestimated what their involvement would do, and so Gabriel became Sylar: a homicidal maniac obsessed with gaining immortality. And he got what he wanted when he killed Claire."

Loki was silent for a while. At first he was waiting for Tracy to continue, but when it became obvious that she wasn't going to he tried to formulate a response, but all he could think was that he wanted to meet Sylar. Gabriel. Whoever and whatever this person was, he wanted to meet them. He wanted to understand them. "If … if we get through this, saving Claire and all, then I … I will return with you and await her recovery. Then, time permitting, I wish to meet this Gabriel Gray."

Tracy screwed up her nose and pressed her lips together as though it would encourage thought. "I don't know. Let's just see––"

A sick crunch sang through the air, right into Loki's mind and bones and essence. The vehicle lurched sideways and tipped, and Loki's immediate reaction was to cast a force-field about himself. Which he did.

When the truck stopped, Loki zapped himself out of it to investigate the cause of the disruption to their journey. And boy did he find it.

A man stood on the road, hunched and keening with pain. His skin was covered in what appeared to be darkly-coloured pebbles, and they shifted every time he breathed. Several were broken off, and a black, tar-like substance was oozing from a spot on his back. He wore no clothes, but the stones hid everything the clothes would have and more. Around his eyes the stones gave way to a leathery skin that at least relinquished to the soft, human skin of his eyelids. His eyes were no smaller than the stones on his skin, and quivered with fear. He would have appeared fearsome if he had snarled or readied himself for attack, but he didn't. Instead, he was terrified.

Suffice to say, Loki's interest was piqued. He stepped forward cautiously, trying very hard to not make a sound, but being discreet was of no use. The man knew he was there, knew he was coming toward him, knew he was in danger. For a moment Loki thought his eyes were turning black, but they weren't. His tears, the same as the stuff on his back, were like hot tar, and they ran down his face much like water would, finding the cracks in the stones and making use of them.

"What are you?" asked Loki.

The beast tried to respond, but all that came out was a rumble that shook the ground. Absently, Loki noted the sound of the back of the truck opening and then footsteps, but he ignored it. He wanted to know.

"What are you? Speak!" Loki took another step forward and was then within arms reach of the creature. He extended a hand, preparing to touch it, when it looked up at him with darkened eyes and a feral snarl.

"Loki! _Loki_! Get away!"

Loki looked over his shoulder for one moment to spot Abigail standing nearby, one obviously injured arm cradled to her chest. She continued urging Loki to move, but he ignored her and turned back.

He did not get to lay eyes on the best before it hit him in the middle and he flew backwards, hitting one of the front wheels of the truck with an awful groan before sliding to the ground.

He knew immediately that his ribs were broken. Perhaps not all of them, but enough for it to not make a difference how many. It just _hurt_.

A savage roar tore through the air, and Loki's vision cleared just in time for him to see Abigail raise both arms, injured and uninjured, to create a blue field. The beast stormed at it, but it did not budge and nor did she.

Another pair of footsteps sounded, and Alex and Sparrow appeared. Sparrow immediately ran around Abigail's force-field, swiftly and smoothly so as to not draw attention to herself. She stomped one foot on the ground like a petulant child, and the result was remarkable. The ground two feet away cracked and rose in one crater, then moved through the air with startling speed as Sparrow raised her hands. It continued its path until it hovered above the beast, and then she dropped it.

The boulder fell on the best with a boom, and a great cloud of dust was kicked up, so much so that Loki could barely make out the shape of Abigail. She dropped her shield, knowing she would not need it anymore, and turned to embrace Sparrow.

Alex, who had drawn his gun but not seen a way in which he could be of assistance, leapt into action at the sight of Loki. He was then crouching by Loki's side, waving the dissipating dust away from his face with a hand. "Where are you hurt?" he asked with as much concern as he could gather.

Loki took a quick inventory and relayed it. "Cracked ribs. Several. Potentially ruptured spleen. What you mortals call 'whiplash'. And I seem to have torn my shirt."

Alex nodded. "Seems like. You took a pretty big blow."

"Yes," agreed Loki. "Just … give me a few minutes."

"A few minutes?" Alex laughed. "More like a few months. Unless … you have, like, God-healing?"

Loki smiled thinly. "Something like that. Where are the others?"

Alex looked around, catching sight of Abigail and Sparrow talking closely and looking at the damage done. His eyes lit up as he recognised the missing pieces, and he stood quickly. Loki noted that he walked with a limp as he returned to the back of the truck, calling, "West? West!"

West did indeed emerge, looking none the worse for wear. "Everyone all right?" he asked, and it was obviously directed at the two young women.

However, Loki was never one to wait to be addressed directly. "I will be," he said, an infuriating smile on his face. _Unfortunately for you._

"Tracy," said Alex. "She was in the front." He ran toward Loki again, this time jumping over him to climb onto the side of the truck, which was now facing up. He braced his feet, one on the wheel and one on the panel just behind the door, and tried to open the door. Thankfully it did, and he swung it open. "She's …" He paused, leaning in and pressing a finger to her neck. "She's alive. Pretty beat up, but alive. C'mon, West. Help me get her."

West clenched his jaw a little, glanced at Loki, then flew up to where Alex was. Together, the two of them managed to get Tracy on the ground in front of Loki.

Tracy was … well, worse for wear. There was a gash in her forehead and her whole body was limp, like she'd just given up on movement. Her eyes were closed in an attempt to fool onlookers (and likely Tracy herself) into thinking she was only sleeping, and the blood from the wound on her head was well on its way to matting her blonde hair one side.

Abigail and Sparrow rushed over, and all of them were soon kneeling around Tracy, each checking her vital signs for themselves. It was ridiculous.

"Let me through," Loki groaned. He pushed himself off of the ground and managed to half-crawl, half-drag himself to Tracy's side. He reached up and put a hand on her head before West could stop him, and let the magic he had lived with for forever spark in his fingers and spread over her skin. When he withdrew his hand all that remained of the wound was a small scar; he smirked, knowing that he could remove that if he wanted to. But he wanted Tracy to have a reminder of how he had saved her life. That was satisfying.

"That … was amazing," said Abigail, her mouth wide open in awe. The others, excepting West, were all exhibiting similar degrees of amazement. Loki knew that they had seen incredible things before, but the way their powers worked seemed to be very plain and almost boring, whereas magic had a bit more pomp-and-circumstance to it. The tinge of green in the air, the sound of tinkling bells that was so faint the listener barely even registered it at all––it was Loki's magic. And he loved it so much.

Tracy opened her eyes, but it took a while for her to see, and even longer than a while for her to look, which was just like seeing only with some understanding to flavour it differently.

"What … what happened?" were the first words out of her mouth. She took in Abigail's arm and Loki's bloodied form with an anger diluted only by the slight grogginess she had yet to rid herself of.

"A Special," said Alex. "Some guy covered in rocks. He tried to hurt us, but the girls took care of it."

Loki wanted, then, to cut in and tell them that he had helped as well, but he realised that he had not. He had not helped. If anything, he'd made it worse.

"Good, good," Tracy said absently. She tried to push herself up but Sparrow shot out an arm to stop her.

"That's not a good idea," she said. "You were just knocked unconscious. If Loki hadn't healed you, then …"

It took a moment for Tracy to fully take this in, and once she had she turned to look at Loki. "Thank you," she said. Then, looking over his ruined clothes and haggard face, she asked, "Why don't you heal yourself, too?"

"It is harder to heal yourself than it is to heal other people," said Loki. "And it takes more energy. I will heal soon enough. The wounds are not fatal, and so I shall stay longer."

"But we have to get moving," protested West. "We can't waste time here just because one person is injured."

Sparrow looked scandalised. "What if it was me? What if I was the one lying there, injured like that? Would you leave me?"

West rolled his eyes, obviously believing Sparrow to be being far too dramatic. "That's different––"

"No it's not," Tracy said finally. "It is not different. But we would have to leave Sparrow behind with one of us to wait for extraction. In this case, it wouldn't be waiting for extraction but waiting for him to be able to move again. I am sticking by my decisions to introduce him as a part of this team, and I am not leaving him here like road-kill. Now move it. I want you to go so fast we couldn't catch up to you if we were flying. Go!"

Abigail stood, brushed herself off, and turned to Sparrow. "The old-fashioned way?" she asked with a smirk.

"Hell yeah." Sparrow stood as well, and so did everyone else except Loki.

"Do it over there," said Tracy, gesturing to the middle of the dirt road. "I don't want any collateral damage."

Alex, Sparrow and Abigail did as Tracy directed and moved to stand together in the middle of the road. West, however, hovered above the ground and smirked at them all, saying, "Race you," before taking off.

Sparrow's face twisted as she accepted the challenge quite willingly. "Will do," she said. Then, with no warning, she raised her hands and the space of earth they were all standing on rose until it was shaped like a rain-drop, only upside down. Then a purple glow eclipsed it, courtesy of Abigail, and Alex crouched and clung to the floating earth like he was expecting a tsunami.

And off they went, Abigail and Sparrow's combined powers flying them through the air at startling speeds that would surely catch them up to West.

Tracy turned back to a rapidly healing Loki and smirked. "Kids."


End file.
